..a time for Ramadan..

.,.pakmat missed solat berjemaah this morning, solat in congregation at the village mosque. He woke up to the agitated and plaintive meow of Ayam as she tried to wake him up...He could hear his wife reading the Quran in the next room...Later as he let Ayam out, he peered the still darkened but almost light morning sky...It will be Ramadan soon..A time then for the renewal of his faith...time for sahur, the pre-dawn meal. Ayam loves sahur..and this year will be no different from the last, seeing that there will be only the two of them, and Ayam makes three..

He had always measured his year from one Ramadan to another. And this particular year had been eventful for him. He did the umrah in the month of Rejab a year ago - something he had been yearning to do since his haj in 2011...if Allah wills he might just enjoy a few days of Ramadan in the holy land of Madinah and Makkah..but when he did not know, habouring intent uncertain of

the future...as for this Ramadan, another 20 days away, it will most likely be in Bachok...at home on a house bulit on a slight rise facing Kemasin River... and Irama Beach, 2 km away..may Allah grant him the time and space...grant him the will and health that he may solat terawih with the rest of his village folks, with vim and with vigor...above all, with taqwa and with sincerity..with an acknowledgement..that Allah is Greater..that He is the Most Merciful, the Most Loving and the Most Compassionate..

At 70, he knew his life is in its final stretch, the final lap of this worldly journey...he knows not whence or where its end..or how..but this Ramadan he will fast along with others of his faith...

..O Allah..safeguard me for the month of Ramadhan, safeguard the month of Ramadhan for me, accept it from me...and forgive me, O Allah, my sins...

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..a golden gathering..

..it was a gathering of retirees...civilian staff of the Police Contigent Headquarters Kelantan and Trengganu, of which once I was a part of...pensioners gathered and formed a Whatsapp group..old wood and over ripened fruits...false teeth and gray hair..and I was a bit apprehensive as I drove towards Hotel Perdana where it was held...by the poolside...for some I have not met for over two decades..they were from those time when I was young, brash and a little bit of a sarong-chaser...without doubt they have memories of me..as I have memories of them..small scenes that we played out in this drama of life...

..age made us brave..as I was to find out...we joked and laughed as we tried to bridge the gap the years has separated us.. all are grandmothers and grandfathers..one took a dig at me..the laughing eyes and quick laughter is still there..

'you were arrogant then'

and I said yes, I was

'che mat gelenya dulu'

and I said yes, I was..

and, perhaps, still am, a bit..

..but there were no ill-feelings, as there were no old flames..just old friendships rekindled...Allah, in His Greatness, has been kind to us..He gave us longevity, rezeki, and success in various measures...and more importantly, He has given us this time and space that we meet...once more before the final call...syukran, O Allah...

..children and grandchildren..

..children have a way of growing up..into adults: like pakmat once was..and you can no more straddle them over your shoulders, reaching out for that jambu fruit growing in your garden near the fence...they are not anymore the 3-year old they were once...they do not anymore pee on your lap..or cry and wail at the prospect of being left behind...no, they do not do all those things anymore..for yesterdays came and go and suddenly they are parents themselves..in their late thirties, early forties...and you casually past seventy..

..you turn to their children, to rekindle memories of those times..grandchildren are like flashcards..stripping and streaking through the barriers of your memory...tiny fingers curled yours..tiny toes kick your heart into a gooey mess...father and grandfather merge and become one...

..you sit back and watch as your children goes through the throes of parenthood...and you are glad..your faith in Him restored...for to each, his time...

..bestow upon them, Lord, Your bounty..
..and
..guide them, to the straight path..
..the path of those You have bestowed Your favour..
..not of those who have evoked Your anger..
..or of those who are astray..


..

..a kind soul..

..there's a kind soul from the land of Hang Tuah and Hang Li Po who sends me rm2k every now and then..to be given to those bereft, those facing hard times and those having difficulties putting food on their table...difficulties giving spending money to their school-going children,..also to the masjids in my village...the discretion is mine...and every now and then, she will whatsapped that 2k has been credited to my wife's account...

..until the 29th of March this year, we had never met...she was a follower of my blog since 2010...back to those days when I unfurled without restrain my days as a youth...my life as a polygamist...my failures as a husband and father..and,  more importantly, my journey in front of my God, Allah...I would supposed, as other readers of my blog, she knows intimately me, my wife and ex-wives...my children and grandchildren...I made no conclusion about my life..towards that end I leave it to the readers...she must have...reached her own conclusion..

..hence on, I became sensitive to the people around me..I became acutely aware that most sufferings goes unknown, that people suffered quietly in the background of our lives...that a cheery front hides a pain...that most times, we are too engrossed in our own everyday routine, to bother about others...we are unaware because we never asked...

...thank you, kind soul..for you make this old coot asks..and discover those people who struggles to make ends meet..and through you helps alleviate their burden a little...may Allah  blesses you... and all those unknown people you try to help...
.

..

...old folks home alone...

..the only thing worse than growing old is growing old alone..being in a old folks home does not help..you are alone among other inmates..as my brother Johan is,...alone and almost abandoned by family and friends, by his children...

..life has not been to kind to him..a series of bad decisions when he was younger, stronger, has left him without a home..his wife's death when he was 65 left him helpless...a son left for the open sea, seeking his fortune as an able bodied seaman...his two other known children are busy with their life...and Johan found himself in an old folks home..alone..

..born with a game leg, his health deteriorates..unable now to walk he spends most of his days in bed and on a wheelchair..when incontinent shows its head, as it usually does inthe aged, he became bitter..and frustrated with his incapabilities...

...I make time for him every Friday...arriving before Asr, helping him get on his wheelchair and wheeling him out to a shady tree...where I replenish his spending money of RM70.00 a week send by a caring cousin and check his phone for airtime balance...I listen to his rant..he wants death..he's bored at the home...but he did not ask for a wife...he has reconciled to the fact that no woman would want to marry him now...

...sometimes we talked about old times..and, as always, our conversation would petered into silence..there is not much to talk about...we grew up apart and have no memories of growing up together...he missed his late mother...his saviour when she was alive..

..Lord, its not for me to question what You had laid out for him...but please, o Allah...forgive him and grant him peace in the final embers of his life...

..youthful at 70..

..I tried to be youthful as I aged..at least in my mind..and my mind keeps on assuring me that, indeed, I am 70 and I look it..but I do not feel it..and I really do not know how a 70-year old is supposed to feel..I looked at those in my peer group and found them older than me...and my wife laughed when I told her so, that I found them older than me...but in her family, apart from her mother, who is 85, I am the oldest..but, then again, she is 13 years younger than me..and since the oldest in her family is her sister who is 64, I cannot help but moved around with those who are younger...which helps keep me youthful..

..I also tried to be healthy..but at 70 how healthy can you be?..I watch my diet as I watch my hair greying and my teeth breaking one by one....like most every one else, when I was 55 going 60, I tried holding on to my youth...dyeing your hair black is easy...but keeping your skin taut and your bones creak-free is hard...I bought a Raleigh bike..life now is in auto-cruise, no reason why I should not now pedal a little...which I did with gusto to the beach and back on most evenings...

...I tried to be a better Muslim...I wasn't during my hot curry, polygamic mayhem days...it was hard balancing your life between two women...more so, three...children kept you off-balance...I could have been a better father, of course...I wasn't too bad, but I could have been better...hindsight magnifies your mistakes a thousand times...then, I was just a hardheaded young man with more than one wife...later, I was that 60-year old licking his wounds...now I am that 70 year-old looking at the memories invoking scars of an earlier life....

..children gives you grandchildren, and I am glad..they will be the light that will take pakmat into the future, a future of which pakmat will not be a part of..and yet, pakmat will be very much a part of it...what lies ahead for them I dare not even hazard a guess...but for pakmat, in this short span of time  that he has left, .he will pedal along,...enjoying the moments that God has given him...thank you, Allah...

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